Moving Day
by FerryBerry
Summary: Drabble. Future. Packing up the past brings up an unexpected, slightly odd memory for Rachel.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All belongs to _Glee_ writers and creators.

**Moving Day**

Rachel wasn't sure what they'd all been thinking when they decided to do this. Moving Quinn out of her New Haven apartment, that is. It was a tiny little place and trying to jam herself, Kurt, Blaine, Mercedes, Sam, Santana, Brittany, and - of course - Quinn herself into it was...difficult. There had been more than a few traffic jams by the front door while they all carried boxes out to the moving van, and more than a few cleanups after boxes burst apart upon unfortunate collisions. Honestly, it was going slower with this many people trying to work around each other than it would have been with just a few of them moving Quinn out.

Quinn and Rachel had both tried their turn at attempting to get everyone organized. Rachel even had a chart. And a diagram. No one was eager to listen to either of their suggestions, so eventually they gave it up and let the mayhem take over. Fortunately, since it _was_ such a tiny space, Quinn didn't have much to move. Most of it was either in storage or back in Lima, and Quinn intended on moving those things into her big new penthouse in New York when and if she saw fit - alone. Mainly because all of their friends were horrible at moving.

Kurt refused to pick up anything heavier than 20 pounds; Blaine just followed Kurt everywhere and therefore spent most of his time in everyone's way. Mercedes got stuck multiple times looking through Quinn's makeup, CDs, magazines, clothes, and so on. Santana spent most of her time scowling or slapping heads in frustration over the disorganization and generally spreading her bad mood. Brittany seemed to forget that they were moving Quinn out and not _in_, so a few boxes ended up being removed from the apartment more than once. Sam was really the only helpful one, but since everyone else was doing such a poor job, it didn't make much of a difference, as far as Rachel could tell.

At the very least, Quinn had almost everything packed already by the time they arrived that morning, and what she didn't have packed was organized and ready either in or next to the pre-labeled boxes they were supposed to go in. Unfortunately, there weren't enough scissors or tape to go around and, of course, no one would just pick a job and all ended up doing their own thing.

"I'm going to be lucky if I don't end up getting out a frying pan the first time I try to take a bath," Quinn commented to Rachel after Santana took to singing Trouty Mouth at Sam at the top of her lungs, presumably for getting in her way.

Rachel smiled. "Is there anything else _I_ can take care of for you? I promise I won't put your makeup in your book boxes."

"Actually, my nightstand drawer needs cleaned out and boxed up, could you take care of that? Get you away from the screaming for a bit." Quinn grinned briefly, stuffing a stack of towels into a box.

"Absolutely." Rachel patted her on the shoulder and popped up from the carpet next to her, prancing off to the now mostly empty bedroom. At least everyone had coordinated enough to get the big furniture out of the place, or else they'd have been screwed. Of course, there had been coffee and donuts at that juncture, courtesy of Quinn, which always encouraged harmony. Now things were going to be on toward dinner time by the time they got back to NYC and put all the boxes and furniture in Quinn's new place, and the closer they got, the crankier everyone was.

Rachel shook her head to herself, picking up an empty box that Quinn had labeled in her neat script 'trinkets.' She smiled a tad, kneeling next to the nightstand and tugging the drawer entirely out to set in hand sanitizers and notebooks, a couple of glasses cases, which Rachel admittedly took a look at out of curiosity - she had never seen Quinn _in_ her glasses before - a worn copy of If on a winter's night a traveller, a few pens and pencils, and - a velvet box?

An oddly familiar velvet box, at that. Rachel picked it up carefully, turning it from side to side. It wouldn't hurt to take a peek; after all, it was just jewelry. So she popped it open and stared at the gold diamond engagement band with a floral design on either side of a sapphire, which served as the center stone, tiny spiraling beads traveling around the circle. Seeing it was like a punch to the gut. Or rather, seeing it again, after about five years.

#

Rachel couldn't sleep. It was too quiet in the Berry house tonight. Her fathers weren't snoring so loudly she could hear it through the walls. Her iPod had grown annoying in its shuffle selections, so she'd turned it off a while ago. It was still too cold to have her fan on, creating white noise for her to relax to. She hated the quiet.

So she tossed aside the covers and padded downstairs, trying to mimic the silence until she got to the kitchen, where she flipped on the lights and put on some water for tea and groaned at the clock. It hadn't even been two hours since she'd gone to bed, and she didn't even feel tired anymore. Only agitated.

She adjusted the heat on the stove and picked up her daddy's discarded newspaper to peruse, resigning herself to a long night - until she heard noises outside.

Rachel's first instinct was to grab her flashlight or a baseball bat or her pepper spray, hearing some hoodlums cackling outside - only it wasn't hoodlums or even cackling, she realized, but girls calling after someone. That was too curious not to check out, and soon enough she was off the kitchen stool to peek out the window at the front lawn, hoping the people making noises would be illuminated enough by the street lights to see.

And thankfully, they were, or else Rachel would have spent the rest of her night wondering if she was hallucinating Santana and Brittany trying to chase a wobbling but determined Quinn down on her way toward Rachel's house. She sped to the foyer instead, disbelieving, and flipped on the porch light. Sure enough, there was Quinn, staggering up toward Rachel's house at eleven o'clock at night.

This was simply too curious. Rachel grabbed her coat and rushed onto the porch, calling, "Quinn? Santana, Brittany? What are you all doing here this time of night?"

Quinn almost screeched to a halt, staring up at her with big eyes, and immediately, Santana and Brittany were grabbing onto her arms and trying to drag her backward.

"Sorry, Berry, she got away from us, but it's all under control now. Nice pjs, by the way," Santana snorted, pulling Quinn's elbow, but it was no use.

"No! Just let me talk to her!" Quinn yanked away, frowning at either of them.

"Q, this is a bad, bad idea," Brittany attempted, and Rachel's brow furrowed.

"Ladies, I appreciate that you're trying to help Quinn, and I'm well aware she's unhappy with my decision to marry Finn, but please. I want to hear what she has to say."

Brittany looked uncertainly at Santana.

"All right, midget, you asked for it. Go ahead, Q."

Quinn brushed off her sleeves and cleared her throat as she stepped forward, looking up at Rachel with big, sparkling hazel eyes. "Don't marry Finn."

Rachel smiled a little at the slur in her words, the slight weave in her stance. "I appreciate your advice and concern, Quinn, you know I do, but I love Finn. This is the right thing to do, trust me."

"No, just-just hear me out." She waved her arms, and Santana held out a hand to keep her from weaving too far backward and onto her butt.

Rachel just nodded, biting on her lip to keep from interrupting.

"I-I know...that you love Finn, but. But you deserve…" Quinn squinted, seeming to think. "You deserve...better. I'm not trying to insult Finn, but you do, you deserve someone who will put..._your_ dreams first and I-I would do that. I know I'm not a first choice, or anything, but I know that you would be an _amazing_ wife and I-I would try to be a good husband - wife - spouse. And I swear I would do everything to make you happy, and I know I can't change the past or how shitty I've been, but I swear, I _swear _I would protect you and love you and - "

"Quinn, I don't understand," Rachel blurted.

She'd tried, she really had, to listen and not interrupt and just let Quinn get out whatever she was thinking, but what she was thinking was evidently very strange. What was she suggesting? What was she _saying_? She would love her? Protect her? Make her happy? She'd be a good _wife_? Was Quinn...proposing?

"Yeah, none of us do, let's go, Q," Santana popped up, grabbing Quinn's elbow again.

"No, no, I'm not done. I...Rachel, I know it's sudden and everything, but you don't...I want you to know that you don't have to do this, you have...another option and I'm probably not the best one, but just please." She was digging in her pocket. "Don't marry Finn. If you're gonna marry someone, marry me?" And then there was a sparkling sapphire ring with flowers on either side, silver beads spiraling around the band. Breathtaking. "Please, I know...I can probably never make you love me, but I know that you trust me, and I trust you, and I think we can...we can build on that. And when you find somebody else, I promise I'll walk away. Just don't marry Finn."

Rachel's voice box was malfunctioning. This was the first time she'd ever been utterly speechless. Her brain was doing jumping jacks trying to figure it all out, because how was this happening? This had to be a hallucination of some kind. A really strange hallucination brought on by food poisoning or something, or maybe it was just a dream. Yes. She was in bed right now, sleeping, she just didn't know it.

"Okay, that's a no, Q, let's go," Santana jumped in again, and this time when she tugged Quinn away, the blonde didn't resist.

Rachel tried to protest, or...something. But all that came out was a croak, and Brittany and Santana pulled Quinn down the sidewalk and out of sight. The next morning, Rachel approached Quinn at her locker, to ask if she was all right after the previous night. Quinn's brow just furrowed at her, and she said, "Why wouldn't I be?"

#

"All done in here? Sam's getting the nightstand next," Quinn announced as she waltzed in.

Rachel stuffed the velvet box in her cardigan pocket and smiled brightly up at Quinn. "Mmhm, all set, just need tape."

Quinn dropped onto her knees next to her with a roll and smiled back. "Great."


End file.
